


Embers and Ashes (Beginnings and Endings)

by HolisticallyDirk (DrowningInStarlight)



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blackwing is a piece of shit, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, Escape, Friendship, Gen, Heavy Angst, Identity Issues, Power in Names, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Project Icarus (Dirk Gently), Project Lamia (Dirk Gently), Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 22:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/HolisticallyDirk
Summary: "Are you supposed to be here?" she asked, a strange little smile on her face, almost daring him to remember."Probably not," he said back. "Probably not. I'm not sure who's party this is, but I'm pretty sure I'm not invited.""It's my party," she said, "And you, Dirk Gently, are invited.""Thank you, Mona Wilder."Project Icarus and Project Lamia. Dirk Gently and Mona Wilder. What's in a name, after all?If Dirk and Mona had been friends in Blackwing-- a theoretical history.





	Embers and Ashes (Beginnings and Endings)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavellington](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavellington/gifts).



> Very much inspired by 'Peach, Plum, Pear,' by Lavellington. Definitely recommend checking it out, a very good fic!
> 
>    
> Note: Typical unpleasant Blackwing emotional tactics. 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

They'd dumped him back in his cell, the night when it all began. 

They often did. When no one wanted him any more, they didn't even bother locking the door. He was no danger, and they all knew it, just a skinny kid with useless powers. 

"He'd never try to escape anyway," he heard them say. "Curious, but timid as a mouse. No, no trouble from him. Not that he could get out, even if he did try. No way out without authorization."

 

As much as it grated on him, it was true. He'd often wandered around the facility, finding nothing but locked doors and dead ends. Searching for something that didn't exist, and he wouldn't recognise even if it did. 

Except, that night, he did find something. He found a stairwell that led up to the roof. It was only a flat expanse of grey metal, edged by a railing, but the stars had stretched above, and he'd always loved beautiful things.

Perhaps it was ironic that Project Icarus found solace in the sky.

 

*** 

 

"Who are you?"

The voice startled him, he'd thought he was alone. He spun round, but relaxed almost instantly. She didn't look like a much of a threat, the girl who'd spoken. She must have been at least his age, but she looked younger, with dark hair and big, scared eyes. Her head was cocked on one side questioningly. 

"I'm Project Icarus. Who're you?" 

"Project Lamia. Are you allowed to be here?"

"Probably not." 

"Oh. Then I'm probably not allowed to be here either."

"You don't sound bothered." Breaking Blackwing rules normally had... unpleasant consequences. 

She shrugged. "They'd never catch me anyway."

"Why not?" 

"Don't want to talk about it any more." She climbed up on the railings, and swung her feet speculatively. "They tell stories about you, you know."

"They do? What do they say?" It was a given that "they" were Blackwing. Who else could it be?

"They say you can predict the future. Can you?" 

"No. It doesn't work like that. They don't get it." 

She nodded glumly. "They don't get what I can do, either."

He didn't ask. They'd both had enough of people asking.

"Have you been up here before?" He asked her, gesturing around at the roof. 

"No. I followed you. Sorry." 

"It's okay," he said, and found he meant it. "It's nice up here. Easier to breathe."

"I know what you mean," she said, and he could tell she did. 

 

They looked at the stars in silence. She was still perched on the railing, swinging her feet rhythmically. The universe breathed, and he could feel it in the back of his mind, watching, waiting-- 

The curfew alarms started their piercing shriek, making his ears ring. She slid off the railings with a sigh.

"Oh well, it was nice while it lasted." She turned to head inside-- no one dared ignore the curfew call-- but he called out. 

"Hey, I should-- I should probably warn you... I'm sort of a dangerous person to be friends with. People always seem to get hurt, and-- and stuff."

"I'm your friend?" 

"Well, I mean, if you want to--"

"Yeah. We can be _friends._ I've never had a friend before." 

"But..."

"Bad things happen to my people too. Maybe that'll cancel out your bad things. Goodbye, Icarus."

"Goodbye, Lamia." 

She went inside. It was a few seconds before he could bring himself to follow her into the darkness. 

 

*** 

 

The next few nights he didn't have time to go up to the roof. They'd devised a new set of tests and refused to let him rest until he'd completed them, even though they were just as useless as the last set. 

They'd promised him again and again that they could teach him how to understand his powers, how to _control_ them, but by this time he was sceptical to say the least. It had been _years,_ and the universe still hummed in his head, whispering _this way_ or _that._ At this point, he just wanted to be left alone to dream of the stars. 

 

He kept an eye out for Project Lamia, but he didn't see her. Even when he was allowed to mix with the other Projects, he couldn't see her. He started to wonder if he'd imagined her all along. 

 

When he finally got an evening to himself, the sky was dark and overcast. He leant against the railings and let the cool air blow past him, heavy with the promise of the approaching storm. 

"Hello," a voice said behind him, and he almost jumped out of his skin. _Where were his damn intuitions when he needed them?_

He turned and saw her standing with her hands clasped behind her back, long hair flying in the wind. 

"Oh, it's you," he said in relief. "You scared me. Hello, Lamia." 

"Hi, Icarus."

"I couldn't see you, you know, down there. Where do they keep you?" 

"Oh, I'm there. I just don't like being a person when they don't make me. That's what I do, be things. It's pretty fun. You should try it sometime."

"If I could, I would. I'm tired of being me." He sighed. "What's your name? Other than Project Lamia, I mean. Do you know?" 

"Nope. Don't remember. What about you?" 

"I remember. Don't like it much though. I don't like any of... _this._ " He gestured vaguely around them. 

"What would you change, if you could? I'd cut my hair. Get some clothes that don't itch."

"I'd get some nice clothes, too." He didn't say anything else. Somehow, saying his dreams out loud felt dangerous, like they could be taken away and desecrated. He learnt long ago that the one place Blackwing couldn't get into was his head, although they gave it a damn good shot. 

"I want a dress," she mused. "One that _swishes,_ you know? You should get one too. We'd look _amazing..._ "

He smiled, and listened to her talk, until the storm broke and they danced in the rain. Darkness fell and curfew passed, and as he lay in bed he felt warm inside. _Is this what friendship feels like?_

 

***

 

"Can I show you?" She asked him one day. They were sitting out on the roof again, but this time it was still light. He was lying back on the metal panels, warmed to a comfortable heat by the summer sun. She was skipping about, re-enacting things she'd imagined, happy to provide all the conversation. 

"Show me what?" He asked, although he could guess what she meant.

"My turning into things thing... thing," she said. "I can, if you want." 

"Okay. What're you going to turn into?" 

She closed her eyes for a second. "Maybe..." 

Suddenly there was a butterfly in her place, small and a beautiful shade of blue. He held out his hand, and it alighted delicately on his palm. He laughed, in wonder. 

She became human again, and shook her head as if ridding herself of butterfly thoughts. "I don't like being alive things very much. They don't get it, they always want me to be this animal, or that one," she said, but she was smiling too. It was hard not too, on this kind of glorious evening. 

"You can be anything you like," he told her, and although it wasn't true, perhaps would never be true, he meant it. Up here, drenched in sunlight the colour of faded gold, Blackwing had no power. This was life, and they were living it-- Up here, _Project_ was just a meaningless sound, and they spoke the language of laughter. 

 

"Guess," she suggested, and he immediately turned his back and called out "Book?" 

He turned, and saw a small sock lying on the ground. "Damn. I was close, though! Well, close-ish. Basically close."

He only guessed right once-- "Lamp! No, that's not fair, I saw the shadow," -- and she couldn't stop laughing as his guesses got more and more unlikely. He almost forgot about the testing, and the fear, and the bloody universe. They could just _play,_ and everything was almost okay.

Almost. 

 

*** 

 

He didn't know why he'd been summoned to a testing room on the other side of the building. He'd done his testing for today, surely? And why use a different room? These questions and more bubbled though his mind, but as he stepped into the room and saw Project Lamia, cold, dreadful understanding washed over him. 

 

"So glad you could join us, Project Icarus," a woman he didn't recognise said grimly, but he wasn't listening. His attention was all on Project Lamia. She was being held between two surly guards, but she wasn't fighting to get away. Her hair was tangled over her face, but he could see she was crying. He was struck by how different she seemed down here under the artificial light, washed out and hollow. He wondered if he looked different, too. 

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, but the supervisor clicked her fingers under his nose. 

"Icarus, pay attention. Project Lamia here is refusing to co-operate with us-- aren't you, darling?" 

She choked back a sob. He clenched his fists and took two steps forward. He expected the supervisor to stop him, but when she didn't he ran forwards and knelt beside Lamia.

"Let her go," the supervisor ordered, and the guards dropped her and walked a little way away. 

"Are you okay?" He asked her again. She took a deep, shuddering breath. 

"I can't, I can't, not again, if they make me I'll never come back, not again, not again--"

 

Project Icarus was not fierce. He always preferred to talk things out, or to refuse to engage with the problem. He was not aggressive, and yet he would have gladly beaten the shit out of anyone and everyone at that moment. He didn't, though. Instead he did what he did... maybe not best, but better than he could fight, and pulled Lamia into his embrace. "Shhh, shhh. It's okay now. It's okay." 

He turned and looked up at the supervisor. "She can't do any more today," he said, trying to sound like a doctor diagnosing a patient rather than a child bluffing to protect a friend. "She's exhausted. Let her get some sleep."

"That's not good enough. We've witnessed her displaying much more favourable behaviour around you. You need to make her do it again."

"What?" He asked. "Witnessed more favourable... but..." 

"Oh, you think we don't know about your little roof-top jaunts?" She laughed callously. "Oh no. They were deliberately orchestrated and documented... We were curious as to the results of mixing two of our less aggressive Projects. The result, it appears, is the most pathetic attempts at friendship I have ever seen."

He'd frozen stiff, unable to breath. His head hurt. It couldn't be true, he'd found a sanctuary, he'd made a friend. Blackwing hadn't been involved, they _couldn't_ be involved. 

 

Seeing their horrified expressions, the supervisor said "Oh, come _on_ , you really think that we wouldn't notice two of our Projects going missing almost every night? Well well, Icarus, not a savvy as you thought you were, eh?" 

His heart hurt. The thought that they were watching them though cameras, making notes as he discussed dresses or watched the stars... It felt violating beyond anything he'd ever felt before. He struggled not to wretch. 

The supervisor was still laughing, Lamia was crying, and everything became a blur. He didn't remember what happened next, just a jumble of impressions-- the feeling of his fist colliding with someone's face, people grabbing him... then everything went black. Lamia's sobs haunted his dreams. 

He didn't go up on the roof again after that. 

 

*** 

 

Whenever his mind falls back to memories of Blackwing, eventually it always ends up at the night of his escape. 

The overwhelming sensation was of smoke. It was thick and choking, pouring through the corridors and filling every space. Alarms blared, people screamed. There were explosions coming from somewhere nearby, but he wasn't sure who'd set them off and he didn't care. This _couldn't_ have been an accident. Someone had planned this, surely, but he didn't have time to wonder who. He was going to take advantage of their plans, be fierce for once. 

 

He burst out of the doors into the night outside, the rain sudden and drenching. It took his breath after the suffocating heat inside. 

There were people in uniforms rushing around, but he could _feel_ that they were too late. They wouldn't be able to contain what's been set loose, and he makes a promise to himself: _never again._

He'd been ready for something all day, although he hadn't know what, and now the moment was here he could barely think. _Fly, Icarus, fly._

 

Someone crashed into him, and even as he hit the concrete he knew who it was, and for the first time in months he thanked the universe. "Lamia!" 

"Icarus, it's you, it's you," she said, and he could tell she was even more panicked than he was. 

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Do you want to get out of here, for good?" 

She nodded, almost defiantly. 

"We have one chance then. Come on!" 

His thoughts were a litany of _please, please, please_ , and he knew he would die if he got taken back now, with the taste of freedom on his tongue. They _ran,_ and they didn't stop. 

 

He knew the story of Icarus better than any other tale. He'd dreamt it again and again, and right then he decided he'd accept-- he'd _welcome_ \-- the fall, if just once he could have the flight. Just once. 

_Please._

 

*** 

 

The morning air was cold and clammy, and the air still smelt of smoke. The trees were coated in dew. He still felt something was pushing against his lungs, restricting his breathing, and he had a sneaking suspicion it was delayed shock. 

"We're free." He whispered, barely audible. "We're actually free!" 

Project Lamia didn't answer, as she was currently a tartan blanket draped round his shoulders. 

"What next?" 

The question hung in the still air. _What next?_

 

*** 

 

The crossroads where they parted was on the outskirts of the forest. A signpost, leaning over drunkenly, a dirt track splitting, it was hardly the most exciting location. But in the light of the morning, the trees were very green, the air was fresh, and they thought it looked _beautiful._

The track kept taking his attention, though. Two pathways, an infinity of possibilities. Two separate destinies beckoned, and neither of them had ever been able to turn down destiny. 

They shook hands, like associates, then hugged like friends. 

"Good luck," she told him. 

"I don't think luck's got much say in it," he said, "But you know what I always say, get as many ineffable forces on your side as possible. You'll be okay, right?" 

" _I_ can be anything," she reminded him. "I'm going to be fine. What about you?" 

"Oh, I think I'll be all right," he said vaguely. "We'll both be fine. Hey, I think-- I think it might be best if we, you know..." 

"Weren't friends any more?" she said. "Yeah, maybe. No more bad stuff."

"No more bad stuff," he agreed, but lingered, looking lost for a moment. 

"Goodbye, Project Icarus," she said, and he nodded. 

"Goodbye, Project Lamia." 

 

***

 

Years passed before he sees her again. To say he was expecting her would be a little strong, but... he had a hunch. 

 

She's taller than he remembers her, but he suspects it might be her shoes rather than her body that's changed this time. Her hair is bobbed neatly, and her dress is light blue and swishes, but it takes her less than a heartbeat to recognise him, even in the crowded club. She came over, and smiled. 

"Project Lamia," he said, but as a question, not an acknowledgement. 

"Mona," she corrected him. "Mona Wilder." 

"Mona," he repeated, and smiled slowly. "I'm Dirk, Dirk Gently." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Dirk Gently," she said. "I like your jacket." 

He looked at her for a long moment, taking a deep breath, letting the memories wash over him. "I'm sorry." 

_Sorry for all the things that happened, sorry for all the things I couldn't change. Sorry for you, sorry for me, sorry for all of us and our broken minds. Sorry for all the memories we will never quite be free of._

"I'm sorry too." 

There was a silence between them, a remembrance, perhaps. Mourning things they'd never known they'd lost. 

 

"Are you supposed to be here?" she asked, a strange little smile on her face, almost daring him to remember. 

"Probably not," he said back. "Probably not. I'm not sure who's party this is, but I'm pretty sure I'm not invited." 

"It's my party," she said, "And you, Dirk Gently, are invited."

"Thank you, Mona Wilder." 

He listened to her talk, and heard the laughter that Blackwing hadn't been able to kill, and smiled.

 

When morning came, they went their separate ways, and it was okay. Dirk felt that maybe-- just maybe-- the universe wasn't beyond repair.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love playing with Icarus symbolism, and the way names interact with identity. Also, writing a fic with more holistic stuff that I've done before was a lot of fun! I really love this fandom. 
> 
> If you have any requests/prompts for what I should write next in this fandom, go ahead and comment! I'd love to hear from you. :D


End file.
